


hold your head high, heavy heart

by wolfpacklove



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, During Canon, Everyone Needs A Hug, Game Spoilers, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Language, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game(s), mostly promptis rn, so you can read it as either tbh, sort of magitek!Prompto, with hints of ot4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfpacklove/pseuds/wolfpacklove
Summary: Prompto's anxiety is a fact of life at this point.Doesn't stop it from making his life a living hell on a regular basis though.His lonely childhood was bad enough.  Now the Empire has taken over, the world is pretty much ending, and he has no idea who he is.Well.  It can't get any worse at least.  Can it?(aka how Prompto sees the world, from childhood to canon to post-game, told primarily through added moments and deleted scenes)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> during the game Prompto talks about how he feels once in a while and I was like, hey that sounds awful familiar! anxiety buddies! ^.^' so I started writing about his state of mind and all that and it was supposed to be a short thing. and then it got out of hand and I decided I had to write this, and that, and the other thing, and it basically just grew into a monster, oops.
> 
> shout-out to [demonicnerd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonicnerd/pseuds/Demonicnerd) for being my cheerleader and sounding board and sort of beta reader.  
> title from The Phrase That Pays by The Academy Is...  
> warnings: Mentions of self-harm here in the prologue, and talk about anxiety and panic attacks throughout.
> 
> and without further ado, have a prologue!

Prompto grew up with no real idea who or what he was.

The Argentums were phenomenal people, phenomenal parents, when they were around. Which, admittedly, wasn’t nearly as often as they should have been, but it was all he ever knew. It only occurred to him that things could be different when he went to school and heard other kids talking about their parents’ constant presence with annoyance, but also a touch of fondness.

That’s when he realized… he was lonely.

But they did their best. They made sure he was fed and clothed and warm. They taught him the necessities. They may not have loved him, as parents should, but they cared for him. And, looking back, he couldn’t blame them for not wanting to be around.

They absolutely refused to talk to him about where he came from, though. He knew they adopted him as a toddler; before that, nothing. Whenever he tried to ask questions, they gently steered the conversation to something they deemed more appropriate. And all they would say about the strange code on his right wrist was that he should always keep it covered.

(Sometimes, he’d have nightmares about a lab with dingy white walls and flickering tube lights. Occasionally, it was empty; most of the time, it had futuristic equipment, flasks of strange liquids and people that didn’t seem like people shuffling around in lab coats. But there was always an oppressing feeling of darkness, of magic gone terribly wrong. And always, always, on the procedure table in the middle of the room was a baby, unnaturally skinny with a tuft of blonde curls on his head, red-faced from wailing. He knew in the dream, instinctively, that this baby was himself; when he awoke, he immediately discarded the notion.)

\---

Because of his isolation, among other things, Prompto’s childhood was plagued with uncertainties and insecurities. As a child, he constantly felt scared or sad, hopeless or worthless. As an adolescent, he recognized that this wasn’t just how everyone felt - some people were actually, genuinely happy. As a teenager, he learned how to fake it well enough to pass as somewhat normal, if still a bit odd at times.

So, on the outside, Prompto became a happy-go-lucky, no care in the world goofball. He buried his problems deep, bottled them and hid them away, dealing with them only when they overwhelmed him. People started accepting him, but everyone still kept their distance. He had no real friends for a long time.

He found ways to cope. He picked up a camera one day and just started shooting. It became a form of escapism, for him to see and experience life on the other side, and taught him to find beauty in the most unlikely of places. He ate almost exclusively junk food, until his self-esteem bottomed out and he decided to lose weight; at that point, working out became a way to channel his emotions into something more productive, until it nearly became an addiction in itself. He found a balance, eventually. At his worst, he discovered that physical pain could pull his focus to the world around him, rather than the turmoil in his own head. With a morbid sense of irony, he found that being known to constantly wear gloves or wristbands had an advantage - they hid the scars.

Befriending Noctis was the turning point. The crown prince himself judged Prompto worthy of his time, even if it was only the outer shell of his personality. His moments of weirdness made Noctis laugh and tease, but not in a cruel way. The boy actually enjoyed his company. Slowly, the inner demons began to retreat; or perhaps Prompto was simply getting better at ignoring them. They still made his life hell on a regular basis, but at least he was becoming better at reining them in.

And then, when they were twenty, Noctis asked him to join his Crownsguard and accompany him on this… road trip, epic journey, last hoorah for the bachelor, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he was elated. There was no doubt and no hesitation when he answered in the affirmative.

“It’s going to be a blast. You’ll love Ignis and Gladio.”

The demons perked up at that. It just hit home that this would involve actual social interaction with people he didn’t know, people who were from a completely different class, a completely different world. Constant contact with them, and he was a total outsider. Not being a child of privilege, being a lowly commoner meant he’d have no common ground with them. And the only skill he could contribute was _photography_. How was he going to pull this off?

But he had to. He’d promised, and he’d do anything for Noct. Even go with this insane idea to tag along on this trip when he clearly didn’t belong. So he put on a brave face and said, “I can’t wait.”

And Noctis’ answering smile almost, almost pushed the demons away again.

He’d find a way. For Noct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> let me know if I missed any mistakes!


	2. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tomorrow, they’ll leave for Altissia. They’ll deliver Noctis to Lady Lunafreya. His best friend will get married and live happily ever after. He’d known from the beginning that this was the end goal, and he’s happy for Noct - honestly. It’s just… this trip has been the best time of his life.  
> He knows it’s selfish, but he’s not ready for it to end."
> 
> Prompto has feelings about Noctis' marriage and the future - and then their world falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place from chapter 1 - the beginning of chapter 2.  
> thanks again to [demonicnerd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonicnerd/pseuds/Demonicnerd) for putting up with me and my rants and my endless requests to read over my stuff. and keeping me on track when I start talking about some random AU that popped in my head. 
> 
> chapter warnings: anxiety, as per usual; mild language; boys being boys; spoilers for the early chapters.

Prompto collapses into the passenger seat of the Regalia with a dramatic sigh. “If that Dino guy doesn’t come through with the ferry after this crap, I’m going to shove my gun up his ass and empty the cylinder.” 

Gladio snorts. “I’ll hold him down for you.”

Ignis gives them both a patented Ignis Glare for Inappropriate Behavior, but doesn’t say anything as he cranks the car and pulls back onto the road to Galdin Quay.

\---

It’s only a couple hours before Prompto is rethinking his threat. “I take it back. This hotel room alone is worth almost getting killed by that giant bird.” He nuzzles his face into the pillows, smearing dirt and a trace of blood on the immaculate white fabric, and pretends not to hear Ignis’ muttered remark about sympathy for the housekeepers. 

When he looks back up, Noctis and Gladio are eyeing each other from across the room. Gladio is casual, rubbing at his chin, eyes darting to the bathroom door every few seconds. Noctis, however, is poised to move. Ignis raises an eyebrow, and Prompto shrugs. 

After a moment of tense silence, Noctis takes off, yelling, “I call dibs on the shower!”

“No you don’t!” Gladio catches up to him in three strides, and they push and shove their way to the bathroom; finally Gladio overtakes the prince, slamming the door in his face. 

Gladio is cackling, loud even from the other room, as Noctis slams one fist on the door and holds the other hand over his nose. “You can’t steal a royal’s dibs! I could have you executed for treason!”

Gladio opens the door a crack, just enough to give Noctis hope. “Dibs isn’t enforceable by law, Princess!” And then he shuts the door as quickly as he’d opened it and starts cackling again.

“And you broke my nose, jackass!” Noctis pulls his hand from his face, glancing at the drops of blood.

“Potion!”

“Come here, Highness,” Ignis says with a sigh. “Let me see.” He stalks over obediently, if poutily, and sits on the bed opposite Prompto. Ignis barely glances at the prince’s face before he waves a hand in dismissal. “It’s not broken. Take a potion.”

Prompto bursts out laughing, unable to stop even when Noctis throws three pillows at him.

\---

It’s late. Or, well, early. The light of the full moon pours through the window, illuminating Prompto’s face. He’s been lying there staring into the distance for a few hours; he’s exhausted, physically and mentally, but his mind just won’t stop going.

Tomorrow, they’ll leave for Altissia. They’ll deliver Noctis to Lady Lunafreya. His best friend will get married and live happily ever after. He’d known from the beginning that this was the end goal, and he’s happy for Noct - honestly. It’s just… this trip has been the best time of his life.

He knows it’s selfish, but he’s not ready for it to end.

Ever since they left Insomnia, Prompto has felt a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose that he’s never had before. Hell, even Ignis and Gladio are starting to accept him, he thinks. 

And it will all be over soon. Noctis will get married. He’ll start taking on more royal responsibilities, in preparation to take over the throne. Ignis and Gladio will remain by his side as advisor and shield; that’s what they were born to do, after all.

Prompto, on the other hand, will be left by the wayside. Noct will have his beautiful bride, his left- and right-hand men, and a whole country to rule and protect. He won’t have time for people who have nothing to contribute - like Prompto.

He’d never admit it in the light of day, but part of him is a little resentful of Lady Lunafreya. Maybe even jealous. He knows it’s not fair, this wasn’t her choice either, but he can’t help it. She’s taking his best friend away.

As the thought manifests itself in his head, he feels a pressure on his chest. Every inhale is a battle; he closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe in, then it hits him again and the air pushes its way back out. 

He’s going to be left behind.

His eyes flutter back open and he glances around the room. Noctis is in the bed closest to him, sprawled out like a starfish and dead to the world. His mouth is parted, just enough to let a spot of drool gather underneath him. Ignis is on his back, one knee up and one hand on his stomach, looking completely relaxed and serene. Night is the only time the stress ever really leaves his face. Gladio is on his side facing the door, seemingly out but Prompto knows he would be on his feet in seconds if he heard something. His broadsword is just within reach. 

They’re all within feet of him, but it feels like another world entirely.

His stomach turns. His heart seems to be speeding up. His hands are shaking.

Fighting the urge to scream and shoot things, he throws his blankets back and stands. The glass door squeaks when he slides it open; Gladio jumps and looks around the room. Prompto waves half-heartedly at the bodyguard, who just nods and disappears back into the covers as Prompto slips out onto the patio.

The cool night air hitting his lungs helps almost immediately. He can feel the tension starting to fall from his body as he takes in as much as he can, savoring the scent of ocean and sand, and exhales slowly. 

He sits in the patio chair nearest him, leans back as far as he can and props his feet on the table. His eyes trace patterns in the stars - comforting in their familiarity, even so far from home. 

Eventually, the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore lulls him to sleep, deep enough that he doesn’t realize when Ignis drapes a blanket over him before leaving on some morning errand.

\---

If last night was hard, today is unbearable. 

“Careful what you wish for” keeps running through his mind. He didn’t want this trip to end so soon, and now it’s not. But in return? Well. 

Logically, he knows it’s not his fault. But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at him. 

Overnight, things went from a dream to a nightmare come true. Last night, Noctis was on his way to get married. He’d be king one day. He could have had literally everything. Now… he’s lost his father, possibly his fiancee, pretty much everything and everyone he’s ever known, and to top it off the Empire is hunting him down.

And he’s not the only one. They’ve all lost their home. They’re all targets. Ignis lost his uncle; Gladio lost his father, and his little sister is MIA. Prompto’s parents are probably gone too, he realizes suddenly, though that thought doesn’t hit him as hard as it should. Even so, everything he’s ever worked for, the life he’s been building for himself, that’s all gone. Burned to the ground with the rest of the city.

The silence is stifling in the Regalia. Ignis’ hands are white-knuckled around the steering wheel, foot heavy on the throttle, as he pushes on to Hammerhead. Noctis keeps clenching and unclenching his hands in the seat behind him, alternating between looking like he wants to kill something and like he wants to just curl up and cry. Gladio’s face is just morose, chin resting on one hand. Prompto knows that the only thing he can think about right now is Iris, if she made it out of the city in time, if she’s safe.

Prompto rests his head against the window and stares out, listening to the rain beating the roof of the car, and just tries not to think until they reach the outpost.

\---

The looks they receive at Hammerhead are just torture.

Cid’s eyes are filled with gentle, understanding sympathy, and an undertone of his own grief. He was once Regis’ companion; he’d been Crownsguard and is intimately familiar with all that entails, and he’d lost friends of his own, estranged or not. On the other hand, there’s a flame of anger and determination flickering behind the sorrow - and frustration, because he knows that as much as he would love to be the one to give the Empire what they deserve, it’s no longer his place. It’s up to the next generation, these four barely-men standing before him, soaked from the rain and drowning in the weight of the world.

Cindy looks like she’s barely holding it together, grieving on their behalf. She knows they have no choice but to stay strong. They won’t have the time or opportunity to properly process their emotions for a terribly long time, and all the while it will eat at them like termites destroying the foundation of a beautiful home. So she grieves, for their losses, for her grandfather’s, and for them. 

(It occurs to Prompto that under other circumstances, he may have tried to capitalize on that sadness. Move in, offer a shoulder to cry on, maybe try something romantic. As it is, it feels just wrong to entertain these thoughts.)

And to top it off, when they stop in the diner for a quick bite before bed, Takka gives them this sad look and offers them a job. It’s just running errands, really, but they see it for what it is, and confirm it as such: a pity job. On Cid’s urging, Takka offers them odd jobs - to occupy their minds, to prevent them from dwelling on the shitty situation they’re in, and to keep them out of trouble. They take them anyway, though. They could use the gil, especially now that they have no royal treasury to back them up if they run out. 

They spend the night in the camper, but it’s unlike any other night in this trip. There’s no roughhousing, no poking fun, no laughing. No King’s Knight, no light conversation. It’s misery.

Thankfully, Prompto manages to fall asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if I missed any mistakes!  
> p.s. sorry for the happy-times-to-angst whiplash


	3. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Funny, that what makes him so useful is his sunny demeanor, when his mental state is a constant swirl of dark clouds. But Prompto starts to relax anyway. He has a place here, with these men. 'Thanks, Noct.'"
> 
> Prompto has a revelation about his past, his identity, and has to process it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS for part of chapter 13, continue with caution
> 
> so I took some liberties with magitek stuff? as in, creation process, id codes, etc. it's actually kind of hard to get accurate info on it, so I just decided to wing it :'D  
> also, I know in canon Prompto knows what he is from the beginning, at least as far as I can tell. I've always had issues with that, so I'm writing this as if he never knew up until the events of this section. (plus it just works better for what I want to do, so, y'know.)
> 
> usual thanks to [demonicnerd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonicnerd/pseuds/Demonicnerd) for talking me through this and reassuring me that it's okay to take those creative liberties when I got a teensy bit OCD over the lore
> 
> (p.s. I'm not entirely happy with this and I can't figure out why? but I decided to go ahead and post it and move on because I'm getting nowhere rn. so if you have any thoughts/comments/questions/concerns/whatever drop me a comment!)

Prompto keeps one hand on the hammer of his revolver, slamming it back as quickly as he can pull the trigger, and empties the cylinder into the last magitek soldier’s gut. It falls next to the others and the four men take a breath. 

“Not bad, kid,” Gladio says with a too-hard clap on the back. But Prompto grins because, well, he’s fitting in. The prince’s sworn bodyguard and advisor seem to approve. Everything seems to be going well. He glances at Noctis, who shoots him a smirk and an encouraging nod. 

They all take a moment to recover. Ignis cleans his glasses on a handkerchief; Noctis flops down next to a tree and wipes the sweat from his forehead with one hand; Prompto reloads his gun and eyes his companions. As he watches Gladio push a soldier onto his back with the toe of his boot to grab a plume of phoenix down, something catches his eye. 

His hands twitch automatically to dismiss his guns; they shatter into shards of blue light, blinking out of existence before they hit the ground. He walks over to the corpse, trying to look as casual as possible as he kneels next to it. When he picks up the arm and pushes the gauntlet up just a tad, he sees a barcode tattooed on the back of the right wrist. Just like his. 

His heart stops and the air rushes out of his lungs. _Shit._

“Ig… Ignis? Do you know what this is?”

Ignis walks over and squats next to Prompto as he indicates the tattoo; Noctis joins them as Gladio checks another corpse’s arm. “They all have ‘em,” he adds.

“I would assume it’s some kind of identification. Perhaps there is coding in it as well, I can’t be sure.”

“Huh,” is all Prompto can manage to say. The other three move on, bickering about whether or not to camp at the haven nearby or keep on to the motel. Prompto remains, unable to move, staring at the barcode. He runs a finger over it, then pulls out his camera with shaking hands and snaps a photo. 

“Coming?” Ignis is already in the driver’s seat of the Regalia, and they’re all looking at him. Prompto drops the arm suddenly, stashes the camera in his bag and stands, legs wobbling like jelly. He just hopes the others can’t see it from so far away. 

“Chop chop, Prompto!” Noctis calls from his perch on the headrest of the backseat. Gladio grabs his ankle and yanks him into the seat, and Prompto can see the mischievous grin on his profile, and the eyeroll on Noctis’. 

“Y-yeah!” He takes off at a jog, pushing the tattoo and the ever-emerging questions from his mind as best as he can. He plasters on a smile as he slides into the passenger seat, praying to the Six that his nerves don’t shine through. “So, where to?”

\---

A few hours later, they’re all set up at the nearby haven, Gladio having apparently won the argument on camp versus motel while Prompto wasn’t listening. It’s a typical night; Ignis cooks while Gladio and Noctis train, and after dinner Noctis dozes off by the fire, Gladio reads and Ignis takes stock of their supplies. The only irregularity is the distinct lack of mindless chatter from Prompto, who is sitting at the edge of the haven, lit only by the glowing runes behind him and the ice magic deposit just off to his left. He’s looking at the stars, partly, though he isn’t focusing on anything in particular. His thoughts are otherwise occupied. 

He rubs at the back of his wrist absently. He has a barcode, like those magitek soldiers. He was raised in Insomnia, but his parents never told him where they adopted him from, so it is conceivable that he was born in Niflheim. He clearly isn’t magitek, but that barcode… that’s not on regular citizens, either. 

From the rumors, he assumes that creating a magitek soldier takes years. If he got out somehow, as a toddler, before the process got too far along… Someone must have rescued him. Perhaps his biological parents… that thought gives him some comfort, until he realizes that they didn’t raise him, so they likely died getting him out. 

The only logical conclusion is that he was born, created, engineered, whatever to be magitek. _Maybe that's why I picked up gunfighting so easily,_ he thinks idly, mostly because his mind can only handle so much of the whole being a minion of the Empire thing before it makes him crazy.

“You alright?”

Prompto jumps, ready to summon his guns, until he sees Noctis standing a few feet away. “Noct. I thought you were asleep.” 

“I was. Iggy woke me up. And you didn’t answer my question.” The prince joins him, sitting against the plateau. 

“I’m fine. Just… got a lot on my mind.” He stares down at his hands, his wrists, until Noctis covers them with one of his own. Prompto looks up to find Noctis watching him carefully.

“You know you can talk to me.” 

Prompto is silent for a long moment, studying Noctis’ face, before he sighs and looks up at the sky. “Ever just… lose sight of who you are?” Noctis doesn’t answer, but Prompto can feel his eyes. “It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it,” he finally says.

“Prompto. Look at me.” Noctis sits up straighter and tugs on Prompto’s hands to get his attention. “I know exactly who you are.” Prompto scoffs, but Noctis continues. “You’re Prompto Argentum. Photographer extraordinaire. Gunslinger. Chocobo enthusiast. Crownsguard. And most importantly, my best friend and personal ray of sunshine.” 

At that, Prompto can’t help but crack a smile. “Your personal ray of sunshine?”

“Pretty much. Can you imagine this trip with just me and Ignis and Gladio? I mean, you’re the only thing keeping us from sinking under the weight of everything, I think. You pull us out of it when things get too heavy, you don’t let us lose sight of the good things. Ignis may be our anchor to the practical side of life, and Gladio the safety, but you’re the one that keeps our spirits high when it seems like everything’s going to hell. And they know it, too. You’re as much their friend as you are mine, now.”

Funny, that what makes him so useful is his sunny demeanor, when his mental state is a constant swirl of dark clouds. But Prompto starts to relax anyway. He has a place here, with these men. “Thanks, Noct.”

“Anytime.” Noctis puts an arm over his shoulders for a half-hug, but doesn’t let go immediately. Prompto leans into it, resting his head on Noctis’ shoulder, and Noctis just pulls him closer. And for the first time in days, all the tension leaves Prompto’s body. He may be magitek, but he’s human enough to enjoy this, and that’s enough for him right now. He’d deal with the rest later.


	4. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'What if you hadn’t been, though? I can’t lose you, Prompto.' Noctis grabs his hand, tight.  
> 'I’m not going anywhere, Noct.' He smiles weakly and receives one in return, if slightly watery. 'You know I’m nothing without you,' he adds without thinking."
> 
> Prompto gets hurt and realizes that he really does matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay y'all. here's the next chapter. not much to say except I am exhausted and i have a ridiculous headache so if I missed anything forgive me :'D and, ya know, drop me a comment and let me know. 
> 
> p.s. I apparently suck at keeping chapters around the same length but I couldn't figure out where to split this so I just decided to post it all at once? it's whatevs.
> 
> warnings: blatant innuendos, major character injury, mentions of violence.

As much as Noctis tries to reassure Prompto that Ignis and Gladio honestly care for him, it doesn’t sink in for another week or so. 

They’re out too late. The last sliver of sun just went over the horizon and any minute now, daemons could start spawning. Ignis is doing his best to get them to Lestallum without incident, but they’re still a ways away.

“Can’t you go a little faster?” Gladio asks impatiently, leaning forward over the console into the front seat. 

“Going any faster would compromise our safety, and all the speed in the world isn’t going to help us if we wreck the Regalia.” Ignis is shockingly calm, considering he’s usually the one pushing to find a spot to rest well before sunset.

“Yeah well daemons would compromise our safety too,” Gladio grumbles and sits back. “I still say we should’ve stopped at that haven--”

He’s cut off when Ignis slams on the brakes, skidding to a halt perpendicular to the road. A red giant is lumbering towards them, swinging its flaming sword in lazy circles. 

“Shit,” Prompto mutters. “Think we can outrun it?”

“There’s nowhere safe to stop behind us. We have no choice but to take it on,” Ignis says, already summoning his daggers as he exits the car. The other scramble to join him.

“Prompto, be ready to use Starshell.” Prompto gives Noctis a nod, and then they charge.

It’s a tough battle, but they do quite well for a time. They manage to get the daemon on its last leg; Noctis is struggling, though, trying to get behind cover to recuperate after the damn thing plucked him out of the air from a warp strike and squeezed him in its giant fist. Ignis rushes over to help while Gladio draws its attention away. Prompto summons the flares for Starshell and has just finished preparing the technique when it knocks Gladio flat on his back with a swing of its fist and turns toward Noctis and Ignis.

He doesn’t have time to think, just runs over to put his body between the daemon and the prince. The flaming sword hits him just as he pulls the trigger on the flares; they light up the sky in a series of brilliant flashes, and the dying screams of the red giant fill his ears as the world goes black.

\---

Prompto dreams of the lab again, except this time it’s different. He sees himself on the table still, watching from afar even as he experiences everything that version of him does. But he’s grown now, strapped to the procedure table even though he isn’t struggling. His face seems almost… empty, eyes staring straight at the ceiling without looking, but his chest is rising and falling with steady breaths, so he knows he’s alive. 

The scientists have been replaced with magitek soldiers, walking stiff-legged to poke and prod him with needles and looking at x-rays and microscopes. And at the head of the bed is Ardyn Izunia.

The Imperial Chancellor leans down to whisper in his ear, burgundy locks brushing Prompto’s face. “You don’t honestly think you can fool them, do you?” He begins pacing around the table, like a predator circling its prey. “You know how clever Ignis is, and how protective Gladio is. Naive little Noctis may never figure it out, but they will, and they’ll tell him. And then… they’ll be rid of you. You’ll be lucky if they let you out alive.” He stops abruptly at Prompto’s feet, eyes piercing. He grips Prompto’s ankles like a vice, just for a moment, but when he pulls away Prompto can already see the makings of perfect hand-shaped bruises.

“Think of Noctis. He has such affection for you. Bordering on… inappropriate, I think.” A lewd smirk flashes across his face, making his meaning all too clear. Prompto flinches and glances away, but his eyes are pulled back to the Chancellor’s despite his efforts otherwise. “And you, well. I know you hold him very dear, too. Just think of how he’ll feel when he finds out you betrayed him.” His hat comes off with a flourish and he raises it to his chest, face twisted into a melodramatic mockery of melancholy. “He’ll be heartbroken. He might even kill you himself.”

Ardyn lets that sink in for a moment before continuing. “You don’t belong there. You don’t deserve a place at the Chosen King’s side.” He throws his arms wide. “You belong here. With your own people.” The magitek soldiers all stop what they’re doing and look at Prompto with soulless eyes while Ardyn leans close and hisses, “You are mine. Never forget that, dear Prompto.” 

Prompto tries to respond, but no sounds escape his mouth. There’s only a slight twitch in his jaw, and he realizes he can’t move at all. His eyes begin to burn, prickling at the corners, and he notices that a few tears are escaping already, dripping down to his temples. Ardyn sketches a mocking bow, then turns on a dime and walks away, laughing darkly.

\---

Coming to, for Prompto, is like being submerged and struggling to reach the surface. It’s dark, and there’s pressure all around, and all he can do is push towards the dim light and muffled voices.

His head finally breaks through and he becomes aware of his surroundings. It takes everything in him to ignore the throbbing in his head, the stinging pain and raw tenderness over his chest and abdomen, the ringing in his ears, and listen to the voices finally becoming clear around him.

“I think he’s waking up.” Noctis, his voice is strained and hoarse.

“How can you tell? He’s been twitching for hours.” Gladio, definitely. A little deeper and gruffer than he’s used to.

“I believe Noctis is right.” Ignis, sounding remarkably calm, if exhausted, and much closer. Prompto opens his eyes and struggles to focus his vision on the figure by his bed. “Welcome back, Prompto. You gave us quite a scare.”

There’s a lot of shuffling around. Noctis rushes to his side, while Gladio goes to the door and calls for Iris. She appears almost immediately and Gladio mutters something about fetching the doctor, to which she nods and runs off. 

Prompto glances down at himself amidst the turmoil. The blanket is pushed down to just below his waist. He’s wearing his flannel sleep pants and no shirt; bruises peek out from underneath the edges of the bandages that span his upper chest to his belly button. Then he looks back at Ignis, who’s watching him intently.

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asks quietly. Gladio has joined him and Noctis at Prompto’s bedside and all three are wearing matching expressions of worry mixed with relief. 

Prompto opens his mouth to respond, and then makes a face and motions for something to drink. Noctis nearly stumbles over himself trying to comply, but it only takes a moment before a straw is being pressed to his lips. He leans his head up to take a few sips, and then lets himself fall back. “Everything hurts,” he croaks out finally. “What happened?”

“You were stupid,” Noctis answers quickly, but Gladio smacks him on the back of the head. 

“You were definitely reckless, but you saved our asses,” he adds. 

“Okay guys, this tells me nothing, can someone just explain to me why my everything hurts,” Prompto groans.

“There was a red giant. Noctis was down, I was trying to help him. Gladio had been distracting him, but was thrown aside. When you saw that the daemon was headed towards me and Noctis, you threw yourself in its path.” Ignis says all this very matter-of-factly, as if it had happened to someone else, but Prompto can hear the tension in his voice.

“You used Starshell right as he hit you, and that gave me the opening to go in for the kill,” Gladio continues. “After that we put you in the car and got to Lestallum and a doctor as quick as we could. Potions and healing magic helped a bit, but not enough.”

“He hit you with his sword, but luckily it knocked you aside more than it cut you. Even so, you’ve got a fair amount of severe burns, and you hit your head pretty hard. You lost a lot of blood just from the head wound and the doctor was worried about permanent damage,” Ignis finishes. 

“Iris’ll be back with the doctor soon, they’ll be able to tell you more.” Gladio moves towards the window and peers outside, then turns back to the bed. “You really did save our asses, Prompto.” 

Noctis makes a face. “It was stupid. You shouldn’t have used yourself as a human shield like that. You could have died.” His arms are crossed and he’s holding all of his tension in his shoulders, looking up and to the side at something Prompto can’t discern. Then he realizes that his friend’s eyes are rimmed in red.

“I did what I had to.” Noctis scoffs, but Prompto continues. “I’m pretty sure Ignis and Gladio would’ve done the same.”

They’re both nodding and muttering affirmations, but a glare from Noctis silences them. “I’d be upset if they did it too. I don’t want anyone sacrificing their life for me. But at least they’ve been preparing for this their whole lives, training for this very purpose so they can do what they have to, but work to keep it from getting to that point. It’s their job.” Noctis’ eyes finally meet his, and they’re angry.

“It’s my job now, too, Noctis. I’m just as much Crownsguard as they are, even if I wasn’t born into it and I haven’t been training as long as them.” He tries to reach up towards Noctis’ hand, but doesn’t make it more than a few inches. “And nobody gave their life. I’m gonna be fine, right Iggy?”

“The doctor seemed optimistic that if you were coherent when you woke up you’d make a full recovery, yes,” Ignis confirms. 

“See? All good.”

“But next time you might not be,” Noctis says quietly. 

Prompto doesn’t have an answer for that, but he’s saved by a knock on the door. Iris is there with a tall woman, auburn hair with a few coppery strands lightening with age. She’s a little thick around the middle and gives off a maternal vibe. There’s a bright pink stethoscope around her neck and she’s wearing light blue scrubs with chocobos decorating the top. Prompto immediately trusts her. 

“Hi, I’m Doctor Florence, I’ve been looking after you since your friends here brought you in.” Ignis vacates the seat closest to the bed and the doctor sits with a grateful sigh. “You’d think I’d know to wear more comfortable shoes by now, right? Walking across town in these things is a disaster,” she chuckles as she opens her bag and starts pulling things out - a blood pressure cuff, a thermometer, syringes both full and empty - and then pulls a pen light from the front pocket of her scrubs. 

“Okay, can you tell me your name?” While she asks, she holds one eyelid gently up and shines the light into his left eye, towards his temple and back, and again; then repeats the process with the right eye. Once satisfied, she puts it back in her pocket and waits for a response.

Prompto glances at Ignis in confusion, light still burning in his eyes, who just nods. “Prompto Argentum…”

“And their names?” She indicates the four people spread around the room.

“Uh. Ignis, Gladio, Iris, and Noctis,” he tilts his head towards each one as he says their names. 

“And do you know where you are?”

“Lestallum. A room on the top floor of the Leville, unless they’ve changed things around.”

“Very good. Sorry, I know that seems odd, but it’s standard procedure with head trauma. Now, how are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” he says again.

She smiles. “More specifically?”

“My head is pounding. And my chest feels like someone ripped the skin off and soaked me in scalding water.”

“Sounds about right.” She pulls a tiny notepad and pen from her pocket this time and scribbles a few notes down. “Well, the headache is from the trauma, obviously. But there doesn’t seem to be any serious or permanent damage. And you have severe burns on your torso. The hot feeling is from the burns themselves, the rawness is where the skin is regenerating. The sword did break the skin on your left pectoral, but it isn’t deep, and the flames cauterized the wound as soon as it occurred. Which is good, because it kept you from losing too much blood and prevented infection. So, overall, you’re healing quite nicely on your own. I’m going to take your vitals, and I’m going to have your friends here keep an eye on them for the next few days just to be safe, but I don’t anticipate any trouble. You’ll need to have your bandages changed and burns cleaned regularly as well; I’ve already explained all of that to Ignis and Iris. I’ll leave some medicine for the pain as well as ointment for the burns, but the only thing to do really is to rest and let your body finish healing itself.”

Prompto nods and lets the doctor take his blood pressure, pulse, and temperature while explaining the processes to Ignis and Iris - both of whom probably knew already, but listened to refresh their memory and to be polite anyway. She leaves paperwork explaining the proper ranges for each measurement, general instructions and information on the medications she hands them from her bag. At the bottom is a list of red flags - if he shows the following signs and symptoms, call immediately. And lastly, she leaves the blood pressure cuff and thermometer. 

He’s already half asleep when the doctor turns her attention back to him, holding a syringe with a clear liquid. “This is pain medication. The same as the tablets I’m leaving, just injectable and a slightly higher dose. I want you to rest, and don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns, okay? I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for everything,” Prompto says, even as he winces a little at the needle entering his arm. The doctor smiles and touches his shoulder gently, and he can already feel the medicine hitting him when she tells him to feel better soon.

He watches her leave the room, until he realizes the others are all looking at him. He smiles lazily at them. “This medicine is great,” he tells them, almost slurring. Noctis still looks angry, but even he can’t help but laugh. “Can I go back to sleep now before I say something you guys will tease me about forever?”

“Damn, he figured out our plan,” Gladio mutters to Iris, who covers a giggle behind her hand. Prompto lifts his own just high enough to flip him off.

“You heard the patient. Let him rest,” Ignis says, shooing the others out of the room. “I’ll keep an eye on him for a while.”

Noctis, Iris and Gladio file through the door, giving him a wave, a wide smile, and a thumbs up, respectively. The room is quiet for a moment, until Prompto speaks up. “Thanks, Iggy.”

Ignis has already pulled a book from his bag, but stops and looks at him questioningly. “For what?”

“Taking care of me. All of us. Dunno what we’d do without you.” He’s really slurring now, and can barely keep his eyes open, but forces it for a moment longer. 

Ignis covers Prompto’s hand with his own, just for a second, then it’s gone. “Of course, Prompto.”

A gentle smile stays on his face as he sits back and begins reading; that smile is the last thing Prompto sees before he falls asleep.

\---

When Prompto wakes up again, the sun is setting outside his window. The boys and Iris are lounging around his room, laughing and eating what smells like… Meldacio meat pie?

“Hey guys, Sleeping Beauty is up,” Gladio says with a smirk.

“Good, I was hoping you’d be up for dinner. I made one of your favorites.” Ignis slides a tray over the bed, complete with a full plate of food and a cold bottle of soda.

“I knew something smelled good,” Prompto says with a grin as Ignis helps prop him up. He does his best not to flinch when he irritates his wounds, but a knowing glance from Iris shows that at least one of his friends notices. 

“Told you the smell of food would wake him up.” Noctis smirks at him and high-fives Gladio without looking. His mood seems to be much improved from before, thank the Six.

“By the way, Prompto. You talk about chocobos in your sleep,” Iris tells him calmly. Gladio lets out a loud guffaw; Noctis snorts and coughs uncontrollably to keep from choking. Iris herself is shaking in silent laughter now.

“Oh no,” Prompto mutters. 

“I’m afraid it’s true,” Ignis tells him. He’s not laughing, but he is smirking. “You insisted that we let you play with the, and I quote, ‘fluffballs of happiness.’”

“And then you started in on how much you want to ride the biggest chocobo at the ranch until you can’t walk straight anymore. It was all very sexual,” Noctis barely manages to get out before dissolving into another fit of laughter.

Gladio pops him in the back of the head. “Hey, my little sister is right there!” He’s trying to keep a straight face, but all he manages is to look extremely constipated before he breaks down too.

Iris just rolls her eyes. “My favorite part was when you started KWEHing though.” She imitates the noise, and then giggles. 

Prompto gives up at this point and starts laughing himself. “So much for saving myself from saying something stupid,” he grins. 

“From what you were saying about that big chocobo, I don’t think you’re saving yourself at all.” Noctis punctuates this statement with an over-exaggerated wink.

The rest of the night is spent laughing and teasing, switching victims at an alarming rate. Despite the pain and discomfort still racking his body, it’s the best night he’s had in a long time. He’s the center of attention for a lot of it, but for once he doesn’t mind, because he realizes that Noctis was telling the truth so many nights ago at the haven: he’s been truly integrated into the group. Even Gladio and Ignis have accepted him into the fold. 

Eventually they all drift off to sleep, spread around the room. Iris is first, tucked under Gladio’s arm. Gladio grumbles about his arm going numb, but doesn’t budge from his position and follows soon after. Ignis, ever the sensible one, moves to the other bed before he crashes. Finally, it’s just Noctis and Prompto; Noctis takes over Ignis’ spot beside the bed, scooting forward and resting his head on one arm and looking up at him.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” Noctis whispers. Prompto barely hears it over the sound of Ignis’ light snoring. 

Prompto glances at him, surprised to see bright blue eyes looking up at him, somber as he’d ever seen. “It’s okay,” he responds after a moment.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t have…” He sighs. “I was so scared, Prompto. All I could think about was what I’d do if… something happened to you. And I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the possibility. And then you woke up, and it hit me again, what could’ve happened.”

“But I’m okay. Nothing happened. A few days and everything will be back to normal,” Prompto reminds him, tapping on his arm.

“What if you hadn’t been, though? I can’t lose you, Prompto.” Noctis grabs his hand, tight.

“I’m not going anywhere, Noct.” He smiles weakly and receives one in return, if slightly watery. “You know I’m nothing without you,” he adds without thinking.

Noctis doesn’t put up the argument he normally would, just meets his friend’s eyes and squeezes his hand once, then relaxes his grip. Prompto grasps Noctis’ hand before he can let go, though; their fingers entwine, and they fall asleep in minutes. Neither notices the absence of Ignis’ snoring, or Gladio’s eyes peering at them through the darkness, nor do they see the look the two older men exchange over Iris’ still-sleeping head.


End file.
